


Survival

by Harukami



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr user haqime requested: dds au please! in which roland, argilla and heat out for a night at the pub. argilla snorting and calling the boys pissbabies.</p>
<p>NOT EXACTLY WHAT WAS REQUESTED, but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival

The ceasefire probably won't last long; they never do. But it's long enough that they get a shower for the first time in a week, albeit in cold water, and long enough to settle into the empty bar back at the abandoned town they've occupied as their base of operations.

For a while, Roland and Heat drink together in silence. Roland had given it up (he said) but when they settle in here, he's the one who goes behind the counter and digs through shattered bottles to find a solid one, who turns it around to make sure it really is solid, that there isn't any glass in it. It'd be stupid if this killed them when the war itself hasn't managed to. But it doesn't leak, and he finds no chips, so he pops the top and finds glasses (those, too, need to be checked carefully) and when everything looks good enough -- not clean, but not deadly -- he's the one who pours for them both. "Cheers," he says, and downs it.

He'd never intended to be a soldier. He'd been a journalist instead, up until Greg died, up until the media didn't have any space to commentate instead. He's seen terrible things, but never been a part of them. Perhaps if he had, things would have been different. It's impossible not to think that way.

Roland drinks, but Heat drinks more, downs a glass and holds it out, downs a glass and holds it out, downs a glass and holds it out. He doesn't talk, his red eyes fixed somewhere off at a wall, and Roland feels too uncomfortable to begin. He doesn't know what Heat is fighting for. He wants to know, can't help but read into it -- well, that's a journalist's life, isn't it? Finding the spin. But it's easy to come up with an idea. A girl, from brief mentions he's heard of a girl named Sera. But, a boy, from brief mentions he's heard of a man named Serph. He doesn't know their relations. Lovers, family, friends, whatever. But then again, he thinks, then again, perhaps he's just reading his own motivations into things again. He always seems to do that. He doesn't know what Heat is fighting for. Maybe just survival. Maybe something worse. He's seen the look of pleasure that crosses Heat's face as blood spatters. He wants to understand Heat, but he doesn't want to. 

They both reach for their guns when the door slams open, but it's Argilla. It's a shock to see her; Roland swallows around his dry throat, pours himself another drink, downs it with shaking hands. She'd deserted, hadn't she? Taken in that wounded enemy soldier, and then the two of them had vanished together. Just as well, he'd thought at the time. Two pretty girls, neither of whom wanted any part of this war -- let them get free.

"The hell _you_ looking at?" she asks, and comes over. She holds out her hand for a drink. 

Roland knows she doesn't drink, but he doesn't either any more. He pours her one.

"Sitting here," she says, "looking morose, like the world's going to end? Maybe it should end! What have _you_ got to cry about, you fucking pissbabies?" She's laughing, but she's crying as well. The tear tracing down her cheek reminds Roland of the soldier she'd run off with. "You're the ones who enjoy this shit!"

"War is war," Heat says. "If we can't prevent it, we might as well enjoy it. How else are we going to survive?" He taps his head, as if to say, up here. How else will we survive up here?

Argilla hasn't downed her drink. She shoves glass off a stool, sits on it, bends over her drink and says something too soft to hear.

"What's that?" Heat says.

"We won't survive," she says. "None of us are going to survive this!" She taps her head too, as if in mockery. "Even if we live, what are we living for? What's the _point_ , Heat?"

"There isn't one," Heat says. "I'm just not ready to die."

Roland has nothing to add. He can't disagree with either of them. He just drinks.


End file.
